A Prostitute's Smile
by The Sepia Tree
Summary: Sometimes it's necessary to blend in to search for what you want. And Clare's willing to take that risk. [one shot]


**A Prostitute's Smile **

Summary: Sometimes it's necessary to blend in to search for what you want. And Clare's willing to take that risk. [one shot

Disclaimer: We don't own Claymore, but we technically own this fic and its ideas in it.

WARNING: THIS TAKES AFTER THE EVENTS OF VOLUME 12 OF THE MANGA. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. WE ARE NOT FOLLOWING THE ANIME AND WHATEVER PATH IT TAKES.

* * *

_Rustle. _

_You can't escape…._

The wind blew lightly, as the trees rustled with uncertainty.

_I'm going to get you…._

The wind bristled sweeping the leaves into motion, masking any sign that showed there was anything hiding in the trees.

Nothing was out of place. There were no problems to the human eye, although the air caused many a being to shiver. However, if one were to look farther away from their standpoint, tens of meters away, they would notice large amounts of discolored moisture on a leaf. The off white substance, slowly slid down from where it fell to hang by the very leaf's edge.

Yet, it had not rained it days, and it was the middle of the afternoon.

Maybe if one were to have unusually sharp senses and the ability to use it to its full potential, than they might have noticed the slight reflections of light in the bushes. This was a rather strange sight because there were not many things produced in the world that gave off such a golden flare.

Then again, not many people survived to see this particular shade of living gold.

But really, if one had the sharp sense of something unworldly, then they might have recognized a couple clicks ahead that a yoma was waiting in the brush. That the speckles of moisture on that leaf, was actually drool and that golden reflection was not just the sun, but also the greedy eyes of a monster.

Most people were devoured before they had a chance to run.

The yoma knew this. It grinned, baring its razor sharp teeth, eyes staring at the figures coming in towards him. He anticipated a good meal today, by the amount of people that were traveling together. There were seven cloaked figures, obviously female by their petite figures. His favorite. There was no way he would let a single one go.

Carefully bending his knees, he prepared himself to rush forward towards his prey. It wouldn't be very good if they knew about his presence before he wanted himself known. One long, drawn out scream from them all sounded so much better than the constant yells of help. He was going to get that reaction anyway.

Rushing forward, he barely made a sound, not noticeable to the human perception. The trees and bushes seem to bounce, blurring the edges of his vision. But he didn't need it; he only needed to keep his eyes on the succulent figures of his next conquest. He drooled even further, as he came closer and closer to them.

Coming up to the side, he opened his mouth preparing to make his presence know, when time froze.

He stopped in mid-air.

And finally separated into several chunks, his body made into mince- meat, blood starting to ooze from his remains.

"Ha HAH! I got first strike!" Yelled a cheerful voice, her short blonde hair and silver-blue eyes showed with sparkling delight, as her cloak whipped back, her holding a large sword.

The yoma never had a chance, because, of course, Claymore's aren't your average humans.

---

Instead of going through the now-peaceful forest, the seven figures turned to walk on the beaten pathway near it.

"I swear that first strike was made by me!" the same cheerful voice exclaimed. "The rest of you didn't even touch your weapons!"

"Helen, do you really believe that the rest touched our weapons? Or that you can really pull off such a move that involves speed?" This time it was the monotonous yet sarcastic tone of Deneve that spoke.

"Well of course I know you guys helped a _little_. I just got first coup! That's all!" Helen said less enthusiastically than before. Deneve had a point, but it wasn't like she was going to admit!

"If I remember correctly, without your Yoma powers, the main basis of your technique is just brute strength." Deneve continued, chipping away at the cheery attitude Helen had. "What do you make of that attack Clare?"

Clare didn't even look at the two when she spoke. "The Yoma was weak, and we are currently cooperating together. I see no reason for us to argue about such a trivial matter. Besides, we are almost at Angola, the next city."

"So humble…." mumbled Yuma. Her eyes had barely kept up with Clare's and Helen's claymores, but she was pretty sure that Clare had first strike.

Helen was now gone from the happy mood she had earlier. In frustration, she tried to let off some steam by complaining about the next city.

"Honestly," Helen muttered. "Whoever named this city Angola needs to get beheaded on the spot. It's not like his brain is doing him any good."

While Helen had a tendency to be quite a loud mouth, she did have a point. Naming the southern city Angola after the angels was an irony in itself. Angola was reputable for having the largest slave business in the land. Many bandits, prostitutes, and other shady inhabitants lurked in the shadows of the dismal alleyways. It was an angel's paradise all right.

"We need to spend the night here and gather supplies," Miria continued as if she had just not heard Helen's remarks, "There's no using going off unprepared."

The other six girls nodded. That was Miria for them. Astute, collected, practical. It was these traits that enabled her to be their leader for those seven desolate years.

"So should we find an inn first?" Tabatha suggested.

"Yeah," Deneve said, "It's no use carrying our claymores here. We don't want to stand out if there's someone from the organization or something."

"I agree," Miria said while scanning the rugged crowd, "Yoma tend to stay away from here."

"Yeah," Clare muttered distantly as she looked around the city. A group of men were laughing drunkenly as they stumbled up the stairs. A shady businessman was trying to attract customers to his measly kiosk. On the right, a hooded man was dragging along a boy who looked no older than fourteen. No doubt, he was to be sold by slave traders. The boy struggled and cried but it did not have any effect.

"Raki..."

It had been seven years since Clare had last seen her companion. She remembered the tears that Raki had shed at their parting, the wounds he had endured for her, and the promise she had made to him that day.

"Let's go." Clare's head snapped back up as Miria's words tugged her back to Earth.

"A room for seven then," the innkeeper muttered as he hastily took the money and gave the girls a key.

"Thank you very much." The seven girls trudged their way up the creaky stairs and came into the simple but comfortable room. They nonchalantly placed their claymores on the beds and unpacked their supplies.

"Let's see what we need here," Miria muttered as she rummaged in the contents, "It seems as if all of our claymores have dulled in these past seven years. We need to get something to sharpen them with. I would have liked to get it done by a sword smith but they probably would have been in league with the Organization. "

"We should probably see if we can get a map," Cynthia said, "It might come in handy if we get lost or something."

"We should also get an extra supply of food just in case," Helen piped up.

"Where's Clare?" Yuma asked. Everyone looked around the room quickly.

"It looks like she left," Deneve said.

"Where the hell is she?" Helen growled.

"This place is known to be a slave town," Miria said, "As such, a lot of orphaned children pass by here."

---

_The slave trade center here is enormous," _Clare thought_." I'm sure Raki had to pass by here if he escaped from the North. There should be some trace of him here."_

However, if there was a hint lying somewhere, Clare had probably missed. While she had intentionally disguised herself as a prostitute to blend in, she found that her disguise was radiating an opposite effect.

"Oh wow," a deep voice muttered.

"Who is she?" a dark-haired woman stuttered under her breath.

"Honey, another woman whispered, "Stop staring and let's get out of here."

As the crowd scurried back and forth, many people paused or even stopped in their tracks to gaze lustfully at Clare. Many of the men eyed her from top to bottom and back again.   
The many pairs of eyes started from the blonde hair that framed the outline of her face and enhanced the dark chocolate color of her eyes.

Next, the pairs of eyes lingered on the easily noticeable tight black dress that she wore. Gone were the pieces of armor on her body. While the outfit had originally been designed for great maneuverability for combat, it was now a masterpiece of cloth. It molded to her skin while flaunting her slim figure with the daringly high-cut slits on each side to show off a tantalizing amount of flesh. The stark comparison of smooth white skin to the dark material of cloth was unbearable to some of the men watching. Swishing back and forth, it briefly showed a good amount of smooth skin before covering it again.

"_If only…._," some of the men thought, "_If only…."_

Between the short hem of her dress, silken stockings, and her long boots, she flashed an ample amount of skin. The most alluring feature, however, was her smile. Taut, foreboding, and well rehearsed, it was perhaps her most taunting trait of all.

"_What did that smile hide?" _That was the question that lingered in the thoughts of many as they tried to busy themselves with the days work.

"_When could I see it again….,"_ other men shamefullywondered

A spell of intoxication was cast upon the many people that saw her. Their senses were not obeying them as they were left with shudders, and a heat that was slowly spreading within their bodies. Many became breathless at the thought of what could happen if they were left longer in her company. The same smile flashing back at them as the sinful darkness of their mind provided the perfect background for the tauntingly white skin she showed. Needless to say, Clare could tell that she would find no help here.

_"I need to move to another spot now,"_ Clare thought to herself, _"There doesn't seem to be any sign of him. I've stayed here too long."_ As she slipped into an alley, a hooded man leaned beside her with one hand on the wall. Four hooded men were slowly closing in around her. The main hooded man leaned towards her until the distance between them was awfully tight. Clare could see the dull look in his muddy grade eyes and smell the pungent odor in his breath as he spoke.

"Haven't seen you around before," the man grunted with a tone of barely-concealed excitement. He kept his hands to himself, but it would not be for long.

---

"Miria let out a frustrated sigh as she started walking. "Tabatha, do you sense Clare around here?"

Tabatha paused and closed her eyes for a moment. "Yeah, she's somewhere in the eastern part of town."

"How is she doing?"

"She seems rather nervous about something. She's trying to calm herself down and talk normally towards someone."

Miria frowned. "So she's in trouble already, huh?"

"Yes, that is what it seems like it."

"Thank you for the help."

"Oh not all Miria,' Tabatha said modestly, "I'm glad to be of help." Miria gave Tabatha a small smile that flashed for just a moment.

"Let's go." As the two of them set about, Miria spotted a whip lying on a windowsill near them. "This might come in handy later."

---

Clare didn't answer, but kept that tight-lipped smile on her face while she narrowed her eyes.

"Huh? What's wrong? Not gonna answer?" the man slurred, trying to put his hands on either side of Clare's head. But Clare, with almost inhuman speed, switched places with him so that he was against the wall.

But all that did was make him smirk. "Bad move, girly."

Clare felt her heart pound faster all of a sudden. Then felt a sudden change of breeze.

"_Breeze? No…. We're in an alley." _Clare glanced around. It was the other hooded men, with the main man, she was surrounding on all five sides. That wasn't the only reason her hear was pounding.

Clare felt her heart pounding faster, making her skin more sensitive to the touch. It felt hot, unbearable, heat collecting to her pores. She was starting to remember….

That feeling of force, breaking her skin, ripping her to pieces, and reaping havoc on her body.

It was a terrible thing to remember at such a time. Surrounded by all these men, was not good. But that was probably what triggered the memory. The feeling had disappeared when Teresa had saved her, but it looked like it couldn't be helped anymore.

She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down. _"They're just plain humans," _she thought to herself_, "I can handle them."_ Suddenly, she felt something rough brush her skin. She looked down and saw that the man's other hand had entered one of the slits of her dress and was inching teasingly to a forbidden region. Clare quickly slapped the man's hand away.

"Ouch," the man grunted as the other men laughed, "You slap hard." The man pinned Clare down to the wall with his body pressing hard into hers. Both his hands went under her dress and grabbed her hips tightly. "That wasn't very nice. Luckily I'm a forgiving man and I'll do you right here, right now.

The men around him laughed. Clare realized that she was trapped. With them enacting as a human barrier, there was no way that anyone would be able to see what was going on. The man's hands were slowly sliding up and down her body.

Why wasn't she able to move? Why couldn't she stop this man? After all, he's just a regular person? And wasn't she a "Claymore"? Why, why? Hadn't she sworn to become a strong person and avenge Teresa? Hadn't she endured much greater hardships? Hadn't she been able to keep her cool under Riful? So why was she succumbing to this? Why, why?

"I think that will be enough."

---

Using the distraction to her advantage, Clare quickly pushed the man away toward another in order to escape. But now it looked like there was no need for her to do so.

"I will have to take her back now." Two of the men separated as another figure pushed into view.

"Miria!" Clare said surprised, though she supposed she shouldn't be surprised at all. And without warning, Miria slapped Clare. Hard. Directly on the face.

"What were you doing wandering by yourself?" Miria asked coolly. "How many times have I told you not to wander by yourself? It's wasted effort that we have to look for you, whenever you go off by yourself." She glared at her with cold eyes while Clare was still clutching her reddening cheek.

"I'm…. sorry." Clare bowed her head in shame trying not to meet Miria's eyes. It was probably an act, Clare figured, but at the same time Miria was probably scolding her too.

"If it wasn't for the fact that I was given upon orders to watch over you, I would let fate see to whatever punishment she has in mind for you. It would probably suit you well, for the many times you have disobeyed orders." Miria started to pull something out of her belt.

A whip.

"Unfortunately, I cannot wait for her to punish you so I will have to do it myself." Miria pulled the whip taught, before slowly turning her attention to the man that had attempted to rape Clare. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to take her away."

The man grinned. "Wait, why should we let you go –"

But he stopped, when Miria snapped the whip in front of his face. The black cord, passed in from of his eyes, moved, and revealed Miria with a small smile on her face.

"Order's are order's." She flicked the whip again. "If my master says that I should get my charges back unharmed, than I will fulfill that order." The man backed off as she cracked her whip once more. "No matter what."

Miria turned away to leave, with Tabatha and Clare in tow.

---

"Master?" Tabatha asked, trying to conceal her amusement.

"My master is myself. And that order given to myself, is to protect all of you from harm as leader." Miria let a small smile flit on her face.

Nobody spoke a word as they entered the inn. It didn't take Miria and Tabatha long to figure out what was going on. After all, many Claymores had been periodically raped by yoma when they were young. It was a cliché story among them. Miria had planned on lecturing Clare about going off beforehand but after one look at her she decided that it wasn't necessary.

Miria looked outside the window. "I sent the others to guard the outskirts of the city. They should be back by dawn."

Clare sat down on the floor and stared at her feet. She found herself having trouble to hold back her tears. It was shameful enough to have to be saved from such a harmless situation like that. But crying about it…Was she that weak of a person? Probably she was. If she were truly a strong person she probably would have lived on as a human anyways. Part of the reason she became a Claymore was just to escape from the troubles that faced her.

"_I'm still weak,"_ Clare thought, _"While I've gotten physically stronger in these last seven years, I'm still as weak as ever." _It was hard for her to admit it but it was true.

Clare closed her eyes and felt a small drop of water slowly glide down her cheek.

"Thank you for saving me Miria."

---

When Miria and Tabatha went out later, Clare sat on the bed. "This isn't comfortable," she mumbled to herself.

Stabbing her claymore into an empty space on the ground, she leaned against it. She still felt no relief in her body. Frustrated, she went to the washroom to calm herself down. Walking over to the washbasin, she splashed her face with water.

Clare's vision turned fuzzy. But instead of wiping away the water on her face, she stared into the mirror placed in front of the basin to look at her. The reflection was just a blur of color.

She blinked. The only thing Clare saw was herself.

Nothing was out of the ordinary although the image was still a bit blurry. But as the image cleared, she noticed beams of red flashing. Her eyes were bloodshot.

"_No… It's not from that sign of weakness I showed." _She remembered her disgraceful behavior from before. _"Then what is it?" _Her mind couldn't provide her answers. But  
her body could. She narrowed her eyes from the sting the water caused. It was pain that made her eyes red. "_I'm weak."_ Clare thought. "_That's why I look like this." _

Closing her eyes, she slowly leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the mirror. Opening her eyes, she only saw her eyes and the redness. The weakness in her body.

Her eyes closed once more, shutting out the image. It was no use, her mind provided it instead. Her body crouching in the darkness, crying. Her hair long again…. The shade of brown…. That was her inner self. Still human, still powerless.

Her body felt tired, Clare couldn't open her eyes. All she could do was stare at her.

"_I am weak." _She said to herself. The thought echoed in her mind. _"Why?" _Clare stared hard at her other self. _"Why are you still living when thousands of others are dead?"_  
Her eyes opened but she couldn't see. It was just a shock of colors to her eyes. Sinking down onto the floor, darkness crept up the side of her vision. It filled her sight. Clare couldn't tell if her eyes were open or closed anymore.

It was just darkness.

And yet, she could see herself, or was it just a feeling? It was as if she was seeing herself, but seeing what was right in front of her eyes at the same time. Clare could feel herself illuminated by a pale blue light.

The light was comforting but it restricted her. Clare could feel the light pressing against her, stealing her breath. But it didn't leave her alone in the darkness. It did not bring Clare out of the darkness but it stayed by her side. That was what the blue illumination was doing.

And if it had a voice, it spoke to her.

"_Live Clare…."_

The light pressed harder, flashing brightly. Clare couldn't breathe, the light pressed onto her, making it unbearable. It was so familiar…. That voice.

"_Live Clare." _

Clare could feel herself coming in and out of consciousness. The light was suffocating her, she couldn't think anymore. _"What is this?"_

"_Live Clare."_

The voice pressed on. Clare was choking, she didn't know what to do.

"_Live Clare."_

"_But how do I live, if I'm suffocating?" _Clare thought, holding her neck. She didn't know what to do, instead lashing out around her. She fought back, at whatever was holding her.

She slashed her claymore into the air fighting back the darkness. _"Wait, did I have my claymore before?" _As she kept fighting, she could feel the light growing lighter. Becoming just as comforting before.

But Clare kept fighting back.

"_Live Clare."_

Her eyes opened. She was back in the washroom. The blue light was gone, and so was her claymore. Clare smiled.

"_Thank you Teresa. For helping me live again."_

---

"Oiiiii! Deneve!" Helen called, "Come over here!"

Deneve sighed. "Didn't Miria tell us to stay in our assigned positions?"

"Yeah well I found something carved on a tree near my position," Helen said defensively, "Yuma and Cynthia are looking at it right now. Come on."

"So what is it?" Deneve asked while they were walking through the forest clearing.

"I'm not sure," Helen said, "It looks like a blob or something."

"Do you think this is even important?"

"Well I'm bored! Why do we never get to do the fun stuff?" Helen moaned.

"That's because you're too much of a blabbermouth to have gone under disguise with Miria and Tabatha," Deneve muttered.

"Ah! Here it is!" Miria said pointing to a large oak tree. Carved onto the trunk was indeed an outline of what looked like two girls praying. Strangely, it seems as if there backs were attached together.

"Oh you're back Helen," Cynthia said cheerfully, "Hi Deneve. Yuma and I were just looking."

"I remember now," Yuma said slowly, "This is what Clare and I were looking at back in that Northern prison,"

"So do you think this is a sign of that kid?" Helen asked.

"Probably."

---

"What else do we need to replenish, before we can go on our way?" Clare asked Tabatha and Miria. They were getting ready to head back into town to get more supplies.

"Currently, I think our greatest need is to sharpen our claymores." Tabatha said, before glancing at Miria. "But, how is the question. What should we do Miria?"

"I agree Tabatha," Tabatha smiled "Although going to a blacksmith would be best, it is possible that we don't need one. If we could just acquire a whetstone or oilstone that wouldbe the one of the best solution's, for most blacksmiths are in cohorts with the Black Organization. That way, we could sharpen our claymore's while traveling and without the help of a blacksmith." Miria explained.

"That makes sense." Tabatha said, nodding to Miria's explanation.

"The only problem is how do we acquire them." Miria said as they left the inn.

"Acquire them? I thought that they were rather common." Clare asked rather monotonously.

"That's true, but it's rather suspicious when women try to acquire them in any city. Not only that, you must not forget which city we're in, and what we are. Though this city is loose with its laws, I believe that it will be a challenge to acquire any weapon related material here." Miria said softly so that it would be impossible for any outsiders pick up their conversation on the streets.

Walking toward a more shady side of town, the crowds thinned to only drunks, and prostitutes on the street.

"But we should be able to find someone desperate enough to sell us what we need." Miria said looking at the many shops lining the street. All of them were filthy and old, the ideal place for illegal items to be sold.

Unbeknownst to them, they were being followed. But this is a rather common occurrence in the place known as the "city of angels", so it wasn't surprising for people to stalk them. Furthermore, it should've been obvious that the men from before would come back to get their brand of revenge.

"Miria," Tabatha nodded to one of the stores, "that one seems to have the supplies we need."

"We might as well go in then." Miria said, opening the door to go inside the barely illuminated shop. It was filled with large stones and rocks of different sorts, not just the sharpening stones they were looking for.

They separated and glanced at the many items on the shelves looking for whetstones.

"OI! YOU LITTLE WHORES! OPEN UP! WE KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!"

Miria, Tabatha, and Clare simply looked at the door for a second before ignoring the loud sounds outside.

_Bam! _The thugs had managed to kick down the door after a few minutes. This time, they had more accomplices with them. A lot more accomplices, in fact, they were eyeing the three girls with ravenous stares. A man stepped to the front and lowered his cape. It was the same man who had molested Clare earlier. Apparently, he was their leader.

"Heh," the man snickered, "It doesn't look like you're too busy at the moment."

"We were just leaving," Miria said quickly as the other two got up.

"I don't think so little missy," the man growled. He grabbed Miria's arm and pulled her towards him.

"What's going on here?" the shopkeeper asked nervously.

"_Damn it!" _Miria thought, _"This is really bad. If we fight back, then the shopkeeper will get suspicious. He'll figure out that we're Claymores and he'll tell the Organization. We'll lose our advantage against them. If we don't fight back…well I don't want to think about it."_

The man's breath was hot on Miria's neck. "Did you really think we would let the three of you get away without giving us anything? How rude of you! I'm insulted!" With that, the man's other hand slipped inside the front of Miria's dress and grasped her breast tightly.

"MIRIA!" Clare and Tabatha screamed.

"Now, now…it seems as if you're the one being rude," a voice said from the distance. Everyone looked towards the door. Miria took the opportunity to break out of the man's grip and push him off of her.

"Breaking into a shop, damaging the door, and molesting a young lady to boot," the voice continued with a rather amused tone, "You're showing great disrespect." A hooded man with a huge scar across his nose stepped into the room. The thugs recoiled at the sight of him.

"Why you bastard…"

"Use your manners gentlemen," the man said and faced the three girls, "I'm terribly sorry for what happened. Please come with me and let me treat you to dinner as an apology.   
Clare and Tabatha looked at Miria for consent. They could either go with this strange man and who knows what would happen next, or they could agree to be gang raped.

"We accept your generous offer," Miria said with a gentle smile, "Thank you very much."

The strange man grinned. For a second, it seemed as if his black eyes were twinkling just as a star twinkles in the night sky.

"All right. Let's go."

---

And that's how Miria, Tabatha, and Clare found themselves in a dimly lit dining hall, enjoying some rather upscale dishes. Or at least, that's how they showed themselves to be on the outside. In reality they were all rather tense from being in a stranger's home.

Clare didn't like the feeling of this man. It was strange but he felt familiar somehow. Besides Raki, the only men Clare really knew were from the Black Organization. His skin was light, but hair dark, and the scar on his face barely showed in the candlelight.

He glanced up, "Is there something wrong with the dishes at all? You're barely eating." He was addressing Clare.

Although startled inside to be caught staring, Clare smiled apologetically "No, everything is quite delicious. I am just one not to eat much, and I feel bad for intruding within your home."

Because the man had not addressed the girls at all while they were eating, Miria and Tabatha couldn't help but look up from their meals. It would be a bad development if their identities were exposed.

"Nonsense, I couldn't leave ladies such as yourselves in danger, could I? Especially ones that have a similar interest to my own. Could you please grace me with the knowledge of why you were in that shop?" He asked, charmingly.

This time, it was Miria who answered. "We were looking for sharpening stones." The other two claymores couldn't help but look sharply at Miria. Was it really okay to reveal such information?

"Oh?" He was looked curious, but did not show surprise.

"Yes, because our master requires that we have them for our…." Miria paused as if thinking what to say, "for the 'weaponry' that we possess." She finished suggestively, obviously revealing what kind of 'weapons' they were polishing.

The man nodded, closing his eyes. "That is quite understandable. I can see why you are in need of them." He then opened his eyes slowly, looking off into the far corner of the room, before settling his gaze on the girls once more.

"Are you in need of help?" He asked politely.

"Help?" Tabatha couldn't help but ask in what was almost astonishment.

Miria gently nudged Tabatha's foot, for her loss of control.

"Yes, help." The man smiled, pouring on the charm. "I believe that it is unsafe for you ladies to enter that part of town again, so I wish to help your endeavor."

Miria smiled back. "Then do you know of another place that we can acquire some sharpening stones?"

"Actually, I could provide them for you." Standing up he walked over to the corner he was looking at a second ago. "I happen to personally be in the business with whetstones and have some that I can give you." He continued while going back to the table, a box in his hands.

Settling himself at the end of the table, nearest to the claymores, he opened the box to reveal many different varieties of smooth, slabs, of stone. "Because I just received a new shipment of these, why don't I give these three to you?" He pulled out three marble white slabs. "These are Japanese water stones, and some of the finest grade. They would be a great convenience for they do not require glazing or loading and you only need water, instead of oil for when you want to sharpen a weapon."

By now, Clare and Tabatha were a bit bewildered by the man's actions. First saving them, then providing dinner, and after that, giving them exotic items that fit their needs? Something was not right.

Miria didn't waste much time in finding out why he was giving them the items.

"We greatly appreciate the generosity, but I will have to decline your kindness this time. You have been too kind to us. Why so much generosity to those as undeserving as us?" Miria asked.

"Why, this is the city of Angola! We are always looking for those we can help and provide for. And I will not take no for an answer." He grinned gallantly at them.

"Then we accept your kindness with great thanks." Miria took the stones and placed them at the side. "I am amazed though, does your industry only include sharpening stones?" she asked.

This was what Clare and Tabatha were looking for; this was their leader Miria.

"Ah, no. I do not just specialize in sharpening stones, although I have a great fondness for them. I specialize, as I said before, in providing to the protection of others, just as the city of angels is named for. Actually this whole dinner, is also linked with my trade, for those men you met in that shop are acquaintances of mine. I do hope you accept my apology." He inclined his head, as a bow.

"You have been so accommodating of our needs, we have forgiven you long before you asked." Miria said.

"That is what Angola is here for. Why, not seven years ago I helped find some soldiers that were willing to go to the north, as they lack the resources that the south has. They were all skilled men; one even carried a Rabona sword! I am sure that he is still providing his service for the north."

Clare's eyes shot up as she grabbed the man's collar and punched him in the face.

"YOU BASTARD! YOU'RE THE ONE THAT SOLD RAKI TO THE NORTH!"

"Oho," the man chuckled despite taking a punch to the face.

"Clare," Miria warned in a chilling tone, "Settle down."

"I am guessing that you girls, are not as you seem. From the fact that you have weaponry, and that you know my, _trade_, you ladies must be very special." His grin, was less charming and now borderline maniacal.

"Answer this," Clare growled as she took in a deep breath to calm herself, "Did you ever see Raki after you sent him to the North?"

"No I can't say that I have," the man said. "As I said before, he is a gift from the city of Angola, the angels. And will be providing service for them now and forever."

Before the situation could get out of hand, Miria stood up, taking the sharpening stones with her. "I think we'll take our leave now," Miria said. "Sorry for the trouble. Good night, sir. And may we never meet again."

The man was outright laughing now. "Why of course, in a lifetime you only meet an angel once."

---

"Clare! I can't believe you acted in such a manner!" Tabatha scowled, "You do realize that if the Organization ever comes to Angola they will know that we are still alive? Honestly, you need to think before you act."

The trio was currently packing up their items from the inn. After Clare's outburst, it was unsafe to stay in this city, especially after harming a person with power.

"Yes, Clare. I too, believe that you need to be able to control your emotions. It does us no good, if you do not behave in the proper manner." Miria said.

"I am sorry, Miria, Tabatha." Clare said bowing her head low.

"For now," Miria hefted a pack onto her shoulders, "it is okay." They were walking down the stairs of the inn, their cloaks pulled over their faces.

"Oh, are you leaving early?" The innkeeper asked.

"Yes." Miria said. "We have important business to attend to."

"Then I hope you have a good trip." He said with a smile.

"Thank you." The three smiled back, from under their hoods.

But once they were a safe distance away, they started to speak again.

"Miria, what do you mean, we're okay?" Tabatha asked as they hurried toward the exit.

"I mean, that although it is now possible for the Organization to know of our presence, we still have a chance of him not telling." Miria explained. "Although loose with his information, he kept important parts hidden. Such as the fact, that he was actually providing slaves for the north. It is possible that he will mention us as something that we are not."

"Why do you think that Miria?" Tabatha implored again, still a bit confused with the situation.

"I believe that he is the type of person that enjoys the art of deceit and lies. He probably joined his trade, just for the practice of it, and allowed us in his house so that he can once again make others believe something that is not true. If the Organization comes to investigate, he will probably lie to them as well."

They were now well out of the city, and on their way to the part of the woods where the others were. Inside the forest, they used their inhuman speed to get to their destination.

"Welcome back!" It was Helen. "Why are you back so early?"

"We'll explain later. For now we need to go." Miria explained calmly.

"Okay." Helen shrugged. "OIIII! WE NEED TO LEAVE NOW! MIRIA'S ORDERS!!!!" She screamed at the members in the camp.

"You don't need to yell, Helen. We're barely a foot away from you." Deneve said as she packed her things.

"Would it be possible to get an explanation as we go, please?" Cynthia asked.

"Yes, but we must be swift." Tabatha replied.

Clearing the area of their things, they quickly bounded in the direction of the next city. They traveled in relative silence except for an explanation from Miria that explained about what happened.

"Pssst!"

Clare heard the noise next to her. It was Helen.

"By the way, we found this blob-"

"Angels, Helen," Deneve muttered.

"Right, we found these two angels back to back, to each other on a tree. Think it's that boy of yours?" Helen asked with a smile.

"I know." Clare said without emotion. "He was captured here seven years ago."

"Eh… How do you know that?" Helen asked confused and disappointed that the news she had was old. But then she brightened up, "Unless you're the reason we're running away from the city now!"

As Helen went to tell Deneve of her new discovery, Clare was thinking back to the times she had with Raki. She smiled for a second before reverting back to an emotionless expression. _"Raki, I don't know if you're still alive, but I will find you no matter what."_

---

A week later, three hooded travelers rode into town. They weaved in and out of the grubby people that passed them by. One of them paused a second as he looked across the town.

"_So it's been seven years since I've last been here…."_

"Raki?" A young girl was calling the adolescent and beckoning him to come towards her. "What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing Priscilla," Raki said quickly, "It's just that I… ermm… visited this town seven years ago and I was just looking to see if it changed."

"Oh okay," Priscilla said smiling sweetly, "Well let's continue. We need to get supplies."

Seven years ago, Raki had walked into town without knowing any of the dangers. He was tired and famished from the long days of traveling. He had no idea that there was a large business to capture children right at the heart of the city, and had walked right into it. It was because of his stupidity that he was sent north and was further separated from Clare.

_Clare…_

Raki hadn't heard or seen any sign of her ever since they parted seven years ago. Every day he thought about her and wondered if she was still alive. Was she still searching for him? If she was alive, then he was sure that she was. After all, Clare was not the type of person to ever break a promise.

_If I ever met up with you again, I would say that…_

What would he say to her? Throughout these seven years, Raki had constantly thought and rethought about Clare's role in his life. She was someone who protected him and cared for him. There was no doubt about that. But their parting had confused him a little. Why had Clare kissed him? It must have been a ploy to make sure he escaped in time, right? Was it? Raki realized that he wasn't sure anymore. There would be so many things that he wanted to say to her if he could. He would do almost anything just to let her hear him say…

"I remember you."

---END----

* * *

Authors' Notes:

KG- The last line, "I remember you", comes from the song by YUI which has the exact same name. I just really wanted to pay tribute to YUI and her songs so I included the line in there. I think it worked well. Also, for another random fact, both my parents ended up finding out about this fic. You know, you'd think that a parent would get really pissed that their child was writing something called A Prostitute's Smile, but they don't care at all. Okay I hope you enjoyed the fic and I'm done writing random comments. Now to NF….

Night – I can't believe we finished this. I was on the verge of quitting the entire thing, the planning of a fic is fun, but I really dislike writing them. It's hard to put those images into words. Stupid inability to communicate well. Plus the fact that it was a joint fic, makes me wonder if the fic got done faster or slower than what would've happened if we wrote it alone. Yeah, I'm just happy we finished.

PS: KG would like to add that we: "thank Red Robins for providing the napkins that we wrote on when planning the fic. And also KG would like to give a special thanks to whoever writes those SAT practice tests because that's what KG used as a draft sheet for part of the fic."

Hopefully you people out there are enjoying our fic, and will continue to read what The Sepia Tree provides. Read and review!


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